


Property Damages

by fucker



Category: The Marketplace Series - Laura Antoniou
Genre: Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Dom/sub, M/M, Paddling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Restraints, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 08:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20005042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fucker/pseuds/fucker
Summary: Even Chris Parker slips up sometimes.





	Property Damages

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Menage_gay_trois](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menage_gay_trois/gifts).



> Commission for [menage-gay-trois](https://menage-gay-trois.tumblr.com/). More Barisi soon, I swear 😓

_Smack._

"Thirteen."

_Smack._

"Fourteen."

_Smack._

"Fifteen."

_Smack._

" _Fuck_ —" The tray you'd been balancing clattered to the floor and you followed it down, collapsing onto your hands and knees. You buried your head in your arms with a groan.

Chris immediately realized his slip of hand and paused, setting the paddle against the foot of his bed and taking a knee next to you. "Are you alright?"

"Never better." You rolled onto your side with a grimace. "Just need a minute, sir."

He leaned over your body, examining the base of your spine for any real damage. The prodding hurt but it was nothing compared to the initial impact, and the sharp pain in your tailbone was already fading, settling into a slow, dull throbbing. A bone bruise, most likely. Sitting down was going to suck for the next few days, but you’d live.

"Do you need to see the nurse?"

"No, sir, I'll be fine." His genuine concern was sweet, but it wasn't what you were interested in at the moment. You rolled back onto your hands and knees and shook your ass in the air. "Come on, it's only ten more."

"That's my boy," Chris grinned. He grabbed the paddle, rose to his feet, planted a boot between your shoulders and forced you down until your cheek met the tile. He choked up for a bit more control and swung the paddle experimentally a few times, each swing whistling at peak velocity and sending goosebumps racing across your bare back.

You were shaking with anticipation by the time he was satisfied with the balance. The remaining strikes were carefully aimed and you took them with nothing more than a few whimpers, then kissed Chris's boots in thanks. Right, then left, just as he'd taught you.

"Up." He motioned you to your feet and you obediently stood. "Turn."

You spun to face away from him and braced yourself, but the hits you were expecting didn't come. Instead, he bent you forward for a closer look at your injury, feeling around the edge of the bruised area. Gentler this time, but far more thorough. You winced in pain.

"Go ice it," Chris pulled you upright and waved towards the kitchen. "We'll deal with your punishment for dropping the tray later."

* * *

You were a sort of personal project, you supposed. Chris had never directly disobeyed Grendel, but when you had failed your first week's training, he'd taken the owner aside for a word in private. To this day you had no idea what words were exchanged. Both Chris and Grendel had made it clear that yes, you could stay, but you'd be the majordomo's responsibility and you would work for your room and board. Your fuck-ups were Chris's fuck-ups, as far as the house was concerned.

You bunked with him, ate with him, and exercised with him. While he hunted down stray trainees with his strap during the day, you'd help the servants with any chores that needed doing. You weren't entirely sure what your role _was_ at the facility; all you knew was that you were expected to be available to Grendel, Alex, and Chris, but nobody else. Not Chris's slave, not quite, although you— and _only_ you— were expected to address him as sir. You were more of a pet, really; there for his entertainment more than anything.

He allowed you to dress as you liked, within reason, of course, with a few exceptions. The collar around your neck was to stay on at all times, unless you were showering or swimming. The raw leather didn't take well to water. You were also expected to wear matching cuffs in addition to the collar, and those three accessories were the only pieces of leather that you were allowed.

* * *

"No hands."

You pouted a bit, knowing that meant you could neither touch him nor yourself, but you let him fasten your wrists together by the cuffs without resisting.

Chris's entire system was designed to be modular; every rope, leash and restraint ending in a heavy-duty clip or ring. There were stays fixed into both the ceiling and his sturdy wooden bed frame, and a neat row of spare bolt snaps sat on a shelf above his desk. Even your collar and cuffs had D-rings set into the leather and stitched firmly in place for his convenience.

He threaded a second bolt snap through your cuffs for extra security and you were hit with a chill of excitement, wondering what he had in store for you.

"There we go." Chris nodded in satisfaction. "Now you _did_ drop my tray, but you also asked to take the rest of your beating like a man, so I think a small reward is in order as well."

It wasn't a question. He sauntered over to the wall of shelves and cubbies, each holding several brutal-looking toys and implements, and examined the selection while you waited silently. You dared not hope for one of the plugs, or even a few clamps, but what he chose for you was almost as good.

"Down, boy."

You swallowed hard and knelt as gracefully as possible without the use of your hands. Chris circled you and it took every last ounce of willpower to keep your eyes fixed forward, away from the sound of his boots on the tile. Cold, smooth steel brushed your spine briefly before a hand in the middle of your back had you pitching forward, your face meeting the tile for the second time that day.

Chris kicked your knees apart, widening your stance for his convenience. You felt him kneel behind you, and that was the only warning you got before that same cold steel was shoved into your ass. A low groan escaped you as the ball slipped past your rim with heavy resistance, but that was the worst part over with. The rest of the hook was narrow enough to be a snug fit, but not uncomfortably so.

"What do you say?" Chris rose to his feet, sending a rush of cold air across your body followed by a shiver that you couldn't quite suppress.

"Thank you, s— _mmmff!_ "

A well-aimed kick forced the hook deep into your ass and sent you sprawling. The dull pain of six inches of steel at once without warning was intense, but not as intense as the rush of arousal that followed. You tightened around the hook and moaned before you could stop yourself, suddenly made aware of just how wet you were as you scrambled to get your knees back under you.

" _Thank you, sir_ ," you gasped. The urge to press your thighs together for a tiny bit of release was overwhelming, but you swallowed the impulse and spread your knees again.

Satisfied, Chris gave the hook one last kick before he reappeared in your line of sight, pulled his chair over, and plopped down as casually as ever. His belt was already undone, hanging at his waist, and you licked your lips as he slowly unbuttoned his fly and shoved a hand down the front of his jeans to pull himself out.

"Not gonna suck itself, boy."

You shuffled obediently over to him on your knees, your back ramrod straight and ass clenched tight to keep the heavy hook inside. "May I service your cock, sir?"

" _May I service your cock, sir?_ " Chris mimicked, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling you down over his lap. "What have I told you about putting that mouth to good use? Get to work."

Given the permission you needed, you wasted no time in wetting the head of his cock with your tongue, then closing your lips around the smooth silicone crown. The familiar shape was comforting, and you let muscle memory take over; carefully swiping the flat of your tongue around his shaft, clockwise at first, then counter in turn. An attempt to take more was quickly halted by the fist in your hair tightening.

"Not yet."

Chris was stronger than you, and without the use of your hands you had no leverage, and therefore no choice but to focus your attention exactly where he wanted you. You found his crown again, curling your tongue over the ridge and working as much surface area as you could while he effortlessly held you in place. Denied any sort of range of motion, you were reduced to simply licking at the head of his cock, unable to close your lips around anything more than the very tip, and you groaned in frustration.

The meticulously molded V just below the tip of his cock was begging for your attention, and you craned your neck for a better angle, moaning quietly as Chris tugged at your roots in warning. You knew better than to press your luck, taking the half inch of extra leeway as a small victory. You pressed the flat of your tongue into that small valley and slowly applied pressure, teasing the underside of his head until his cock was pressed up against his stomach. You watched him bite his lip out of the corner of your eye, clenching hard around the hook in your ass as a hard rush of arousal hit you.

While Chris may not have been able to feel you working him over, he certainly intended to make sure that _you_ felt it. A knee to your chest without warning knocked the wind out of you, and he forced his cock down your windpipe before you had the chance to recover. You realized why he'd doubled up on restraints as panic instantly set in, your heart rate tripling as you strained against your cuffs.

He just laughed at your weak struggles. He clasped his hands, wrapped them around the back of your head, and pulled your face down into his groin. Several more inches of silicone slid roughly down your throat and triggered your gag reflex, but your muscles couldn't complete the necessary motions to clear your airway with the majordomo holding you down. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears streaming down your cheeks against your will and soaking into Chris's jeans as he gave you a few shallow thrusts.

Fireworks started to pop in the fading margins of your vision and you stopped fighting him, conserving what little air was left in your lungs. He continued to hold you down for what felt like minutes on end, finally letting his cock slip out of your throat just as your view started to go black. You choked, your head spinning, chest heaving and legs trembling, but finally able to breathe again. His fist in your collar was the only thing keeping you upright, and you blinked several times in an effort to clear your double vision.

"Look at this fucking mess you made." He cuffed you roughly across the back of your head, nearly knocking you to the floor. "Clean it up."

You frowned, then squinted, bringing everything back into focus. His cock was a mess, dripping with your spit, and both the hem of his shirt and the edges of his fly were soaked through. How much of it was drool and how much was tears you had no way of knowing, but you licked him clean as best you could, long slow strokes from the base up, and sucked the last few drops from the tip of his cock. You wiped your mouth on your shoulder and sat back on your heels, still breathing hard and waiting for further instructions.

"That too." Chris pointed to the floor.

You looked down to see a few drops of fluid on the floor, and you wondered for a second how that had gotten there. Realization was quickly accompanied by a quiet moan. You tightened around the hook again. You were so wet that your pussy had dripped onto the floor without you even noticing, and the flood of humiliation that hit you was threatening to make the situation worse.

Chris showed no absolutely intention of releasing your restraints, so you flopped gracelessly onto your stomach at his feet and slowly licked your own juices from the tile. You swallowed it all, your face burning, and finally gathered yourself enough to make eye contact again.

“Better,” Chris grabbed you by the collar and hauled you back up to your knees. "Now get your ass up here and ride me." 

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to [message](https://fuckerao3.tumblr.com/ask) or [DM](https://www.tumblr.com/message/fuckerao3) me with questions, suggestions, or requests (no promises), or if you'd like to beta!


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